


It's All Going To The Dogs

by cherryvvoid



Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, BRIGGS Patricia - Works, Hurog - Patricia Briggs, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs, patricia briggs
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, SI-OC, SI-OC is Bran and Leah's daughter, Self Insert, Self Insert Original Characters, and she's a witch, because she knows everything about them and guess what, bran and his pack totally scare her, shes a powerful witch with powers similar to bran's mother, who he ate lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvvoid/pseuds/cherryvvoid
Summary: Or better yet to the wolves all things considered because how was Branwen supposed to know that her mother was the same Leah that was mated to the goddamn Marrok? And what's that? She's his daughter?Oh. hell. no.Witch!SI-OC!as Bran/Leah's daughter.





	1. Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one witch becomes another witch.

Okay, so issue number one: she had a new mom.

Eh.

She could deal with it.

Issue number two: she was a baby again

Now that - _that_ would take some _serious_ getting used to.

Cradled in the arms of a haggard golden haired woman, the newly dubbed Branwen was both confused and bewildered.

She had _died_ , hell - _everyone_ who had been in the church with her had kicked the bucket thanks to those crazy anti-everything southerners who decided that burning those "goddamn pagan whores" was the right thing to do.

A girl and a couple of her friends join up with a Wiccan collective and suddenly _everyone_ wanted a repeat of the Witch Trials.

The funny thing about it was that she hadn't even been a _resident_ of that town and she hadn't planned on going there at all but after an invite from her favorite cousin she had left her home in upstate New York to visit down in the boondocks.

_Big fucking mistake._

Who knew going to a sermon on the ethics of paganism would result in her untimely death?

_Motherfucking no one._

Lisa - _shit_ \- _Branwen_ knew her old bitter ass aunt Alyssa would _probably_ consider her death as some kind of karmic penance much to her twisted amusement. The hateful woman had all but screamed that her "devil worshipping ways" would lead to nothing but doom and hellfire and that _probably_ would be true if she had _actually_ been worshipping Satan. Some harmless polytheism wasn't anywhere close to kissing the ass of Lucifer Morningstar and no matter how many bibles her bitch of a relative threw at her wasn't going to change that.

Blinking, Lis - _Branwen_ ( _goddamnit this would take some getting used to)_ felt her uncontrollable wailing warble down to a whimper as something warm was pressed against her mouth and she internally balked.

If she had to deal with breastfeeding for the next year or so, she would kill herself.

She internally gave a snigger at the thought and then sighed at her dark sense of humor because _somehow_ that was funny because she had _already_ died once before!

God, she was gonna be one fucked up kid.

* * *

**This is a side project because I love the Mercy Thompson series.**

**Branwen is the daughter of Leah and Bran, but just for some foreshadowing Leah ran away because she knew her child would be born a witch which Bran hates and she really wanted a child.**

**So she left, got away from North America to have the child she always wanted in a safe environment.**

**Also, Branwen means Beautiful Raven in welsh. Leah named her that after her father as some sort of guilty homage. Her nickname will be Bran for some people and Wen for others, but she'll stop using Bran when she meets the Marrok considering it'll just get confusing lol.**

**If any of you wanna talk about the series with me send me a pm!**


	2. Wheels Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Branwen finds some shit out.
> 
> And then freaks the shit out.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mercy Thompson series.**

* * *

And she was correct, she _was_ a weird little shit who was never allowed out of the house except for when her family moved to a new one every three months but her mother didn't seem to mind at all.

Leah Anne Walters was a snappish woman with a sharp tongue that she used on everyone but her only daughter, which was a startling but heartwarming contrast. It was a nice change from her bullshit ass parents from before and she couldn't be happier - despite the fact that she seemed to be picking up on the local almost cockney-ish accent.

Her only saving grace was that she sounded more Attack The Block than Pip Pip Cheerio.

Branwen was five now and had long since started walking, talking, and _oh_! - accidentally setting shit on fire.

And yes, she was being completely serious.

Imagine what she could do was like the bouts of accidental magic that was discussed in the Harry Potter series because _surprise surprise_! She could cast a bootleg incendio.

_Yer a wizard Branwen._

Or rather a witch.

An actual factual _witch_.

Not like the kind she had been back when she was known as Lisa. _This_ kind could do things immediately, cast spells and have a blatant effect in two point five seconds.

_In your fucking face Auntie Alyssa._

And just how, did she know that she was a witch? Why, because her mother pulled a Hagrid and told her _point_ blank.

Now imagine this, a young girl the age of three was playing with her large building block. It got taken away from said girl and set on the counter but whoops, the toddler was smarter than most adults and pushed a small stepping stool over to where she could spy her toy peeking out over the edge of the island.

The child stood up and reached for the block but she grabbed it wrong and it fell - _directly_ onto of her head.

Naturally, in the next second Branwen was in pain and crying on the floor but a shout of alarm from her mother snapped her to attention to see - yep, her beloved block on fire.

_And only her beloved block._

_Naturally, she started crying again_.

But this time in fear.

Branwen had been promptly snatched up from the floor and was safely deposited on the couch and away from the roaring flames.

And when her mother finally managed to put it out - after fifteen straight minutes of fretting - the _only_ thing that was burned was the wooden toy. The carpet wasn't even singed or blackened by soot and in hindsight, she realized that there hadn't been any smoke in the air either.

The look on her mother's face hadn't been surprised, frightened or anything of the like - which was admirable because if _Branwen_ had been her she would have contacted the nearest priest.

In fact, Leah had been so calm that she had sighed, picked up the burned block, threw it out and remarkably _hadn't_ done the same with _her_.

Instead, Leah had propped her daughter on her lap and told Branwen she was a witch and that she - her _mother_ \- was a _werewolf_.

She had gone on about how she knew this would happen but she didn't expect it so soon and how she was glad she had made the choice in leaving that she did - if only in order to keep her daughter safe. And yeah, that was probably some important information that shed some light on why they were living like near fugitives but Branwen was more stuck on the fact that her mother had said that she was a _goddamn werewolf._

Which granted didn't seem all that farfetched considering the kind of weird shit she had just seen - but nevertheless the child had been skeptical.

That was, until her mother had quite literally in the next second, taken off her clothes, thrashed about on the floor, and turned into a _fucking animal_.

And what happened next was what they called, history.

_Branwen had freaked the fuck out but who wouldn't have in her shoes?_

She has started screaming, had curled into a ball on the couch and only stopped pleading to not be eaten once she felt a cold nose brush against her ear.

Jerking at the sensation, she had looked up, yelped and hid her face again.

And that worked as a deterrent until the wolf - her _**mother**_! - had climbed on the couch and curled herself around Branwen.

The two of them had sat like that until the young witch child had lifted her face and stared deep into the eyes of the frankly enormous lupine beast next to her.

"Mama?" She had whispered and then squealed loudly when a wet tongue rasped across her face.

And that had been that.

Both mother and daughter were freaks of nature and that worked for them - and _kinda_ explained why they both never lived in the same place for too long.

A goddamn shifter and a witch? She wouldn't trust anything either if she was in her mother's shoes.

Hell, Branwen didn't even go to _school_! Her mother taught her all she needed to know and since she wasn't a normal child she didn't hide how intelligent she could be.

Of course she tried not to reveal information that she shouldn't know so that she wouldn't seem _demonic_ but all in all, she was on the fast track.

Which Branwen didn't mind, she didn't have the patience to go through any of that education shit again.

Sighing the young child, stared up into the face of the British witch her mother had contacted in hopes that she could help train her and transferred her gaze back to the candle in front of her.

"You're a very strong girl Bran," Ms. Wing murmured as she watched the child melt down yet _another_ wax construction to nothingness. "and you need to learn how to control it, least it control _you_."

Branwen scowled and shot her mother a pleading look out of the corner of her eye, but the woman merely quirked a brow.

"I'm tryin." She gritted out as her teacher set another candle in front of her. "It's too bloody hard."

Ms. Wing sighed, her eyes closing momentarily.

"If you don't _think_ you can do it, you'll _never_ be able to." The older witch said. "It's all about your force of will. Imagine the wick and the flame as a part of you, like a hand and you can _surely_ control your own hand, yes?"

Branwen groaned and then flinched when the roaring of fire reached her ears.

There was silence and then Ms. Wing let out a wry chuckle.

"Maybe we should try again later." She suggested. "And move onto our symbolism lessons?"

The young blonde nodded her head in bashful eagerness.

"Yes please."

* * *

**To recap, Leah and Branwen never stay in one place too long. Ever.**

**They are always on the move and they never go to North America. Right now they're in England, living in the slums so she has that slangy kinda accent lol.**


	3. Every Witch Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a pagan from our world contemplates the bullshit rules of magic that is the Mercy Thompson Series.
> 
> Branwen and Patricia Briggs would have words.

It was strange to realize that this world's definition of "black magic" differed so vastly from her own.

Here, being a practitioner of the dark arts entailed gaining power through the torture and pain of others - which was _completely_ the opposite from what she knew.

To her, black magic didn't really exist per se but the closest thing she could call it was putting malicious curses on people without provocation, it was casting love spells on people or hexing them with bad luck. Maybe it was even the occasional messing with magic a person didn't understand or respect but that was _it_.

Hell, the _only thing_ they really had in common was that messing with demons was heinous - agony wasn't used to power _anything_. And human sacrifices didn't count because that didn't happen often if at all in normal society.

In fact, using the pain of _anything_ in an invocation often caused the magical working to fail or go south.

She was told that most witches of any power were "black witches" and that there were "black witches" who skirted the doing of actual evil; but skirting it was difficult, time-consuming, and required a lot more from a practitioner than true "black magic" did. Branwen found out that most "white witches" weren't powerful enough to be useful. That it was _hard_ to be a "good witch" and that they were not very powerful because "witch magic" gets its power from death, pain, and sacrifice, and "white witches" have chosen to eschew that.

Which was _bullshit_.

Basically, they were telling witches that if they want to be powerful they have to be _evil_ and if they wanted to be good they had to be _weak_.

Why was a "light witch" not equal to a "black witch"?

What happened to bad deeds never paying?

It didn't make any _sense,_ if a person was born with magic then they should be able to train it. And she guessed if the person didn't have magic of their own that doing horrific things made sense in order for them to gain their abilities but for natural practitioners?

They shouldn't have those kinds of standards holding them down and discouraging them. So many young witches must think that the only way to be strong was to hurt others and that was probably a leading factor in these "black witches" being created!

Well, that shit wouldn't hold _her_ down.

She knew that people didn't need to be powerful to do powerful things and that working magic with another person and being in a coven helped witches amass power easily. But the witches here didn't believe in solidarity because they were too busy trying to steal the abilities of others instead of helping each other out. The only thing they needed to do was be clever with the power they had and they could be a force to be reckoned with.

Branwen wasn't from here and so she didn't _have_ to ascribe to their _silly_ misconceptions about witchcraft.

_True_ magic was neutral and besides, if it really took suffering to be powerful then her memories of her past life and death were enough to fuel her for the rest of her life.

But never the less, Branwen was going to create a new standard for witches everywhere - she was going to show people that they could be powerful with cleverness, training, and healthy new approach on magic.

Especially since she carried so many ideas from her old life.

Back in her world, witchcraft wasn't good or evil - it just _was_ and whatever the intentions the caster had reflected in the spell work.

Here it was either damned or holy and that more than just a bit pissed her off. Not to mention these witches don't seem to really believe in using different kinds of craft instead of just one and making good of tools. Like they used things to cast _sure_ , but they didn't take advantage of how powerful a poppet could be or how useful it was to create a witch bottle. And maybe they didn't have some of those concepts here since the history of Witchcraft was so very different in this world but that just meant that no one tried hard enough to figure shit out. The people here could be powering spells and enchantments with the use of colors which depending on the meaning behind the hue, helped supplement a magical working. Things like stones, woods, and oils could all mean the difference between a successful casting and a failure.

There was so much potential and it was all being _wasted_.

Magic itself in her book was _neutral_! It was both sides of the same coin!

Oh, and on a side note, there wasn't a male equivalent to the word witch - no one called male casters _wizards_ because this wasn't goddamn Harry Potter! And in all actuality calling someone a wizard meant they were likely to be taken as a _joke_!

Oh but don't get her started on the _unfairness_ regarding the _wizards_ here!

Apparently, it was _far_ easier to be a powerful wizard and still be a good person than it was to be a powerful witch.

Wow okay, _sexist_ much?

And they also apparently had control over the physical aspects of magic and the witches had the bodies and minds, flesh and blood - which was once again _stupid_!

Magic encompassed everything!

There are no boundaries!

She wasn't going to let _anything_ stop her from doing any kind of magic she wanted - even if she had to call herself something as idiotic as a _wizard_.

_Witch_ was a unisex term but it seemed the world of Patricia Briggs didn't understand that. And yep, she had long since figured out where she _actually_ was. It was a hard fact to ignore when names like _Cornick_ and _Marrok_ were thrown around.

Her white witch tutor Ms. Wing - even though she vehemently rejected the stupid term white witch - told her all about the supernatural world during her studies.

From things on vampires, the fae and back to demons - the Haitian woman schooled her on as much as she knew.

Branwen hoped she never have to meet any of those creatures but if she had to then she'd rather be prepared, which was why she made sure to be a good student.

Of course, with her past history as a pagan, the young witch didn't need instructions on symbols, the meaning behind colors or even on constructing sacred space and casting a circle but on the different invocation methods used here.

Like blood magic.

How _interesting_.

She wanted a piece of that.

Ms. Wing had tried to sell her on her "white witch" propaganda by telling her to never aim to grab more power by the use of dark magic and Branwen wholeheartedly agreed! Power through dishonest means was no true power at all, but she had _every_ intention of casting a curse if she had to.

Besides, their versions of black magic differed greatly so she would be fine - not to mention she didn't need to gain power in any other ways than by training and skill.

Branwen didn't need to be the most powerful witch out there, she knew enough to make her a valid threat and that was all that mattered.

And regardless, she knew she had power out the ass anyways - if she didn't would she be able to read minds like she did?

Oh, she couldn't delve deep or anything but if she focused hard enough she could glimpse surface thoughts.

And how did she know she could do this?

It started with answering an unknowingly silent question from Ms. Wing that she had answered out loud thinking that the woman had spoken to her and from there, it was _history_.

It was a nifty little trick but her mother impressed upon her - and Ms. Wing - the importance of never doing it to people who could sense the intrusion or telling anyone she had the ability. Which, of course, she wasn't gonna do anyways but it was nice to know that the elder blonde cared for her so much.

Sighing as she scribbled down a makeshift spell into the new Grimoire she had picked out, Branwen blew her hair out of her face.

Being a witch was a hard knock life, she was only lucky she could handle it.

* * *

**Another short little chapter on Branwen's views of Witchcraft in Patricia Briggs' universe.**

**She wants to change things for all witches lol. And she can read minds like Bran's evil mother could.**

**I can't wait for everyone to meet Branwen, especially since she's essential what Bran would have been if he had been a witch and a girl.**

**Or better yet. She's what Bran's mother could have been if she weren't an evil hag. Also if you haven't noticed I don't hate Leah like I did when I first started reading this series. I just feel bad for her.**


	4. Guns N' Horses

Apparently, despite not being a wolf herself, Branwen - sadly - suffered from their behavioral symptoms.

Now let her explain what she meant.

She was abnormally possessive and protective and - surprise, surprise! - didn't like new people in her space without asking. And to think, she never would have paid any of this any mind if Ms. Wing hadn't brought her daughter over to learn with her for the day.

Carinine Wing was a pretty little girl that had brown skin, black hair, and dark eyes that twinkled in wonder and maybe if things had been different Branwen would have liked their first meeting to have been a positive one. But as it was, the _moment_ the girl stepped foot into her house, the blonde witch was ready to fucking _fight_.

It was like her eagerness to meet another young witch was trampled underneath this upsurging of aggression and territorial anger and in hindsight, she probably would have been scared if she had been capable of feeling anything else. She had been cagey since the girl stepped foot into the door and when she made eye contact with her and kept doing so - the _audacity_! - Branwen was _just_ stopped from lunging at her by a growl from her mother.

Turning on her heel, the blonde instead snarled at Leah and _immediately_ felt like shit.

Covering her mouth with her hands she took a step back and cringed when the smell of the girl's perfume wafted over to her. Hunching her shoulders she breathed out through her mouth and bit at her lip.

"Sorry mum." She muttered wide-eyed and when Leah kept staring at her, she carefully averted her gaze and tilted her head to expose her neck. She was damn lucky her mother had taught her all she knew about wolf culture because it made keeping the household calm far easier.

Hearing a sigh, she jumped when she felt a soft hand curl into her hair.

"Sorry Martha," Her mother smiled grimly and she felt so guilty. "it seems something has come up. Maybe we can try this again in a week or two?"

"Of course." The elder witch murmured and Branwen felt her shoulders hunch and her ears burn because she had almost _attacked_ the woman's _daughter._

The door opened and closed and the young freckled blonde stared down at her toes and felt extremely uncomfortable. There was a silence in which she was sure her mother was waiting for her to say something but oh no, Branwen wasn't going to walk herself into _that_ verbal trap - and so with a hum hands were slotted under her arms and she was lifted up. Immediately hiding her face in Leah's neck, she refused to move when she felt her mother walk and sit in the next room.

Now keep in mind that she wasn't actively seeking out anybody thoughts - she never did - but stray ones were always heard and when she read the dawning realization in the elder blondes mental frame she tensed.

_I expected as much._

Branwen shifted in the hold and glanced up into the blue eyes of her mother and furrowed her brow.

"I'm not a wolf right?" She asked and was rewarded with a snort.

"No Wen, you're not." She confirmed drily. "If you were I likely wouldn't have been able to birth you."

"So then I'm what?" Branwen needled. "Part witch part?"

"Part _nothing_." Leah assured as she nuzzled into her daughter's cheek. "You just seem just to have an extra set of instincts."

She blinked.

" _Wolf_ instincts?"

Leah nodded and the young witch narrowed her eyes.

"And nothing else?"

"Only the mannerisms." She promised in an attempt to placate whatever worries Branwen may have. "You have none of the drawbacks I swear."

She paused.

"So I don't get any of the super senses but I get the _behavioral problems_?" She whispered angrily to herself. "That doesn't seem fair."

Her mother gave her a look and a half before rolling her eyes and poking her directly in her stomach, making her squeak.

"You should be thankful." Leah teased and Branwen groaned. "You have the presence of a wolf without being a wolf, I think that's a fair trade-off."

And just like that Wen perked up.

"Wait wait," She interjected excitedly as she clamored upright in her mother's lap. "are you saying I feel like a _were_ to you?"

Leah smirked at her and Branwen couldn't bring herself to be annoyed at the smug look the woman was giving her.

"Sometimes the feeling is stronger than other times but yes."

The younger blonde's mind was whirring.

"Okay so if you met me out on the street and you didn't know me or what I am, what would you think I was?"

Her mother stopped to think about it and leaned forward to brush her nose along the scent glands in her neck and the girl giggled at the sensation.

"Hm." She drawled as she drew back. "At first I'd think you were a child who was turned wolf but then I'd notice you hadn't scented me back and would think human instead."

Leah hummed and tapped her chin.

"But after some more investigation, I'd assume you were some magic creature that sometimes felt like a wolf but sometimes smelt like a witch that was of unknown origins and would have to deal with you accordingly." She finished up and Wen was floored.

"How would you deal with me?" She asked curiously and her mother shrugged.

"Report you to the Marrok." Leah told her and then abruptly froze and Branwen understood. That man was a taboo subject especially to a witch born from a wolf and a lone female Were.

Deciding to be merciful and change the subject she shoved her arm under her mother's nose and grinned mischievously.

"Does my smell and stuff really confuse you like that?" She asked and like clockwork, the other woman took the bait.

And the topic of the Marrok was left to fester away from prying eyes.

* * *

Her mother knew how to handle guns and she knew them intimately.

It was almost frightening, the efficiency of which she could unload, reload, and fire any arm piece - particularly revolvers.

"Where did you learn to use them?" Branwen asked as she watched her mother spin the silver gun around of her fingers and Leah grinned.

"I grew up a country girl on a desert settlement and my daddy and brothers taught me all I ever wanted to know considering I was the only female in the family after our mother passed away." She explained and the young witch was awed. "They wanted me to learn how to protect myself."

"So what?" She asked excitedly. "Are you like southern or something? Do you still have your accent?"

Her mother grinned and tipped an invisible cowboy hat.

"Darn tootin' I do lil lady." She drawled and Branwen squealed. "I've just grown used ta talkin' without it is all."

"Do you know how to ride horses and stuff like that?"

There was a proud nod.

"My daddy an' your granpappy ran a dozen or so ranches on the homestead." She told her with a smile. "It was his pride an' joy, 'sides _me_ 'course."

Branwen was stunned.

"Will you teach me what you learned?" She asked as she practically vibrated in her seat and Leah looked at her. "Please? _Please_?"

"Iffin that's what you want." The rogue Were agreed as she pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Then I'd be happy ta teach ya."

Clapping her hands together, the six-year-old watched starry-eyed as her mother continued on with her little showcase because one day, she'd know how to use a gun just as well.

Her mother _promised_ after all.

* * *

**New chapter! Sorry this took so long lol, I had a block for a little while but I'm better now.**

**Leah has a little backstory here. She grew up southern and can use guns like no other.** **Branwen has a lil wolf instinct in her but has none of the upsides or downsides but well, wolf instincts are a downside in themselves I think.**

* * *

**Quick question: Pick three of your fav characters from the series and tell me how you think they would react to Branwen.**


	5. Patchwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the life and times of Branwen Lee Walters

Her next meeting with Carinine went heaps better than her first and that was probably because they talked with each other over the phone instead of in person.

It had been a little stilted and awkward but after she had apologized for scaring her - to which the other little witch replied "I wasn't" - the conversation seemed to flow naturally and soon they were talking about what they could do in training.

("I created my very first Grimoire today!"

"I cast my first circle."

"Ooh! Did you spell anything?"

"Not this time sadly."

"Maybe next week then!")

It was relaxing to have someone on the same skill level as her to talk to - Ms. Wing was cool but she was well practiced - and it helped that Carinine was absolutely adorable.

They made it a point to talk to each other at least three times a week because it was nice having a friend even though she didn't need one.

* * *

The first time she video chatted Nine - "You gave me a nickname?! That's so cute Wen!" - three months later from their new house in Morocco, she was met with a cherub like brown face shoved in the lens and she burst out into laughter.

"What are doing?" She asked a little incredulously and Nine smiled and leaned forward even further.

"Since your inner doggy doesn't like me yet I gotta be close to you like this!" She declared and Branwen frowned even as her heart fluttered happily in her chest.

" _Nine_ ," She whined. "I've told you this like twenty million times, I'm not a were."

Her head cocked to the side.

"But you act like one right?"

Branwen shrugged.

"Well yeah sometimes but-"

"Then you have an inner puppy that can't come out to play." The other little witch nodded and Branwen sighed loudly.

" _Fine, you win_." She mumbled mumbling knowing damn well the next time Nine said she had an inner puppy that she would argue vainly against it. "So how have your studies been?"

And at that Nine lit up like a Christmas tree.

* * *

Branwen started gymnastics shortly after the practical lessons concerning guns and their uses kicked off. It wasn't that bad at first but as the weeks wore on and the curriculum grew more intensive, the young witch felt more worn out that in actual pain.

She was only lucky her young limber body was more than up to the task else shit would suck.

"Do you do gymnastics too?" She asked her mother as she stretched out on the floor under the elder blonde's gaze.

"Not actively," Leah confirmed as she adjusted Branwen's form. "but I had taken classes over the years to occupy myself."

The young witch was curious.

"What else did you learn?"

Leah hummed.

"How to golf, crocheting, coin crafting, sewing, tennis etcetera." She explained. "If you wanted to learn a skill I probably have it tucked under my belt."

Branwen was low key amazed and it obviously showed by the way her mother burst into laughter.

"What's the look for?" She asked after she calmed down and the younger blonde smiled and rose from her stretch.

"You're incredible and I love you." She said with stars in her eyes and under her adoring stare, her mother melted.

"I love you too cherub." She sighed into her hair. "More than you could ever know."

* * *

Branwen may not have paid much attention to it but she knew her mother worked out - how could she not when she watched the woman exercise daily? - it was just that it wasn't really apparent until the day Leah wore a sports bra during her daily kickboxing practice.

For the first time.

"Mom!" Branwen yelped as she caught sight of the six pack that had been hidden under muscle shirts. " _You're ripped_?"

And at that the were quirked a brow and smirked.

"I have to be in tip top shape to make sure we can handle anything that comes our way." She teased and secretly Branwen was warmed at the use of those inclusive nouns. "Besides I exercise all the time, why wouldn't I be?"

Flabbergasted hazel eyes glanced up into amused blues and she resolutely picked her jaw up off the floor.

"I want that when I'm older." She said instead of answering the question as she pointed at Leah's midsection. "And I wants it bad."

Her mother snorted.

"Well we'll be starting your self-defense lessons when you turn eight so you'll have the building blocks." The elder blonde said. "But I want you to know that you don't have to be like  _anyone_  but  _yourself_."

And those words were said with such a vehemence that it made Branwen pause and swallow the flippant response she had brewing on the tip of her tongue and she sat back and really looked at her mother.

There were shadows of worry slinking about in Leah's cornflower eyes and the thoughts that were swirling around in her head were hectic at best and chaotic at worse and for fear of a headache, she didn't try to decipher anything.

Instead, she smiled - soft and slow - and nodded.

"I know mom."

Leah looked relieved.

" _Good_." She breathed. "It's - that's good."

Humming a little under her breath, Branwen shifted in her seat and grinned.

"Hey, why don't you show me that high kick thingie you always do?" She called and felt something inside of her relax when her mother's gaze lightened. "It was cool."

"Oh?" Leah said as she shifted into her starting position. "Just cool?"

Branwen blew a raspberry.

"You know I think everything you do is amazing." She laughed. "No need to fish for compliments."

* * *

Branwen had been learning how to lie to Supes for little more than a few months and it was interesting, to say the least.

According to her mother, it relied equally on the body movement, heartbeat, and the scent someone gave off when telling a fib which was why even if a person learned how to control the tempo of their pulse, their smell gave them away most of the time.

"It's the smell of catecholamines that clue us in." Her mother explained. "And we're trained to detect them through training and since that training includes physical responses we also learn how to hide lies."

It was fascinating to learn how the body reacts to untruths and it was even more fun trying to lie to her mother during the beginnings of her trials, especially since she desperately wanted to reenact that iconic Azula scene from Avatar The Last Airbender when the young fire princess had lied to Toph.

"I am a 400-foot tall purple platypus-bear with pink horns and silver wings."

"Lie."

"I am a 400-foot tall purple platypus-bear with pink horns and silver wings."

"Bzzt."

" _I am a 400-foot tall purple platypus-bear with pink horns and silver wings_."

"I don't think so."

"This sucks."

"Now that was the truth."

"I hate you right now."

"Liar liar pants on fire."

* * *

Living in Europe meant that with every move they switched languages.

Staying in South End meant an accent and travelling over to Paris meant French and Spain meant Spanish - the only two languages besides English of which she had the bare bones for and built up vocab as she went along - but there were the places where she had to struggle to speak - Germany and of the like - since she knew next to nothing about their tongue besides Guttentag.

Sometimes she would get frustrated and switch to a dialect she knew but her mother never failed to stick with the local tongue. And often times that would piss her off and she would throw a tantrum because come on! It was cruel to do that shit! But during those times when Leah's stubbornness paid out and Branwen found herself speaking passable German - or passable Swedish, or passable Arabic - she found herself grudgingly thankful.

She was still pissed! But thankful because being a polyglot made her better than most people.

* * *

Branwen had always thought it was weird how Ms. Wing always managed to find them after they moved because even though she was a witch, she couldn't track them so efficiently without some kind of aid which was why the next time the elder witch showed up at her makeshift home, the blonde asked about it.

"Oh, I thought you knew." Ms. Wing said with an air of surprise. "Both you and your mother have a charmed piece of jewelry from me that I use to find you after you vacate the premises."

Immediately her hand flew to the necklace situated around her neck and Ms. Wing chuckled.

"Not that, it's in your left earring." The woman told her and Branwen lifted her fingers to fiddle with the little metal flower in her lobe.

"Where is my mom's?" She asked curiously and then startled as a hand clasped her shoulder.

"In my lower back." Leah answered as she pressed a kiss to Branwen's cheek as both an apology and a greeting. "I have Venus piercing."

The young witch paused.

"Did you get it there so that it'll be harder to lose?"

"Right in one." Her mother winked and Branwen scrunched up her nose.

"Why haven't I noticed it?"

"Because I don't want anyone to." She shrugged before she smirked. "And you're particularly unobservant when it comes to certain things."

"You're mean."

"I love you too cherub."

* * *

**Hey! I'm back with a new chapter loves!**

**It's been a while and I apologize for that but I'm back!**

* * *

**Question 1 : If you were Leah and you ended up pregnant with Bran's baby who you knew was going to be a powerful witch with mind control powers like her grandmother, what would you do? Why?**

**Question 2 : What is your opinion of canon Leah? And why?**

**(I personally didn't like her at first but then I started wondering just how she must be feeling married to a guy who has no intention of loving her and purposefully picked her because he said he could never fall in love with her personality.**

**I couldn't imagine being stuck in that kind of relationship where you're essentially a crutch and you can't leave for something better. Like I would be depressed and bitchy as fuck all too! Esp since she has no allies! And I know Leah probably alienated herself to some degree but I'm sure a lot of the wolves are already friends with people who don't like Leah and are predisposed to not like her.)**

**Question 3 : How do you think Bran will react to Branwen? Why? How about Charles and Samuel and maybe Mercy? Asil? Sage?**

**Question 4 : How do you think Bran will react to finding out Leah kept a kid from him and ran away with her? Why?**


End file.
